


Dream a Little Dream of Me

by bees_stories



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, Dream Sex, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Job, Multi, Porn Watching, touched up by an angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_stories/pseuds/bees_stories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is coming down with something. He decides a night in with a little porn and a belt of cold medicine is just what he needs to keep the flu at bay. But Castiel has other thoughts about the best way to get Dean through the night. A first time fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream a Little Dream of Me

***

A long hot shower helped to drive off the chill, but there's still a low grade ache in his bones that means he's coming down with something. Dean opens his mouth wide in front of the mirror and tries to look at the back of his throat, but the angle of the light is wrong and he can't see if it's actually swollen or just feels that way. He mixes up a package of fake-tasting lemon cold and flu medicine, using hot water out of the faucet, and grimaces as he bolts it down.

The stuff always puts him out, eventually, but there's at least half an hour of tossing and turning and otherwise feeling miserable until it does, so he flips on the TV and scans the channels, smiling when he sees that they've got new porn on pay per view. Picking a title at random, he goes back to the bathroom for the little bottle of hand lotion in the basket of freebies, and then makes himself comfy on the bed. 

The skin flick is the type he likes best, short on plot and long on action. Within two minutes of the opening credits the muscular carpenter and the sexy lady accountant have stopped bantering about cost over-runs and are getting down and dirty, sending the guy's hard hat skittering across the floor and her spreadsheets flying as she clears off her desk with a dramatic sweep of her hand. 

They spend a few minutes groping each other, and as he watches, Dean's hand travels to his dick as he imagines that he's the carpenter. He gets hard pretty quickly, considering how lousy he feels, but then again, he's been going through a dry spell, roaming the highways constantly, keeping himself buried in work so he doesn't have time to dwell on how crappy his life has been lately. He makes a grab for the lotion, dumping most of the bottle onto his stomach so that it's handy, before running his thumb lightly over his shaft, trying to decide if he wants to get himself off quick and hard or slow and easy. Either one would help him wind down enough to sleep. He decides to let the action on screen choose for him.

The lady accountant has stripped down to her undies and heels. She's spilling out of a black push up bra that matches the satin of her panties and garter belt in a way that's too good to be real. The guy unbuttons his jeans. Big surprise, he's not wearing any underwear underneath. He spanks his tool lightly a couple of times and then gets out his measuring tape to verify that he's not only long but thick, and she gets wide-eyed with delight before copping a feel.

The guy returns the favor, dispelling Dean's doubts about authenticity. It's pretty clear by the way the actress's titties bounce as she's felt up that they're 100% natural. Her new friend lets his hands roam south, playing with the tops of her stockings for a couple of seconds, as if he can't decide whether he wants them on or off before he opts for 'on', at least for the first big sex scene. 

The lusty (and busty) accountant drops to her knees, doing that thing where she's looking up through her eyelashes at the dude as she blows him. If they'd leave the camera stationary, focusing on her face as she lapped the guy's dick and sucked his balls, Dean would have no trouble watching the action as he beats off. But they keep cutting to the guy's face to show how much he's enjoying himself. It's distracting, so he shuts his eyes and finds his rhythm, listening to the pair make happy noises instead. 

"I can do that for you … if you want me to." 

Dean's eyelids fly open. Castiel is on the bed next to him, one hand hovering inches from his dick. 

"Sonofabitch!" Heat burns his cheeks. He hasn't felt this embarrassed since … ever really. He wants to cover himself, but he's kicked the blankets all the way to the end of the bed and all of the pillows are stacked behind his back. He's so shocked he can't even take his fingers off his dick and bat Cas's hand away. "What are you doing here?"

"You were thinking of me. Rather loudly." Cas glances down at Dean's hand. "But the images that came through were oddly muddled. I thought maybe something was wrong." He glances over at the television set and cocks his head. The skin around his eyes crinkles in concentration as he regards the action on screen. "The man resembles you."

"No, he doesn't." Dean glances up at the screen. Okay, maybe they shared a general build. And lots of guys buzzed their hair short. Any resemblance between him and the porn performer is strictly coincidental. 

He can't remember exactly what he'd been thinking about when he'd shut his eyes, but muzzy feeling as he was, it was possible his thoughts had drifted to Castiel, as they often did when he was lonesome. When the porno had started the woman had been dressed in a trench coat over a dark pants suit and white blouse, as if she'd just been about to leave her office. She even had a tie, wrapped loosely around her neck, that the guy had used to yank her into his arms. 

He sneaks a look at Cas. He's watching the blow job, clearly fascinated. The woman pulls off the guy's dick for a second and wets her lips before diving in again. Cas mimics her motions, flicking his tongue out and then hollowing his cheeks. 

Dean stifles a groan as his dick throbs painfully. His boner hasn't deserted him, as it rightfully should, given how embarrassed he feels. Instead it's hard as the fake-carpenter's hammer and if it doesn't get some attention soon, he's not sure what will happen, but it can't possibly be anything good. He wonders if he can suffer permanent damage from being cock-blocked, and thinks of the cases of blue balls he'd suffered in the past. Given how crappy he feels it would just be icing on the suck cake if Cas's sudden appearance gave him some kind of hard to explain medical condition. 

"Can you – " His throat has gone even more painfully dry and he has to struggle to clear it. "Can you do that?" he manages to rasp as he wonders just what the hell he's thinking. 

"I'm a quick study," Cas replies before licking his lips again.

Dean remembers the last time Cas picked up tips from a porn video. They'd been up to their asses in hell hounds and monsters but everyone had stopped to watch in amazement at what Castiel had learned from the pizza man. He leans back against the cushions and closes his eyes, knowing that if he wasn't tanked up on cold medicine he'd probably have turned Cas down flat. 

And then regretted it. 

"Oh god." Dean's jaw goes slack as Cas – not wasting any time on preliminaries – goes down on him and then just as quickly pulls off again, dragging his tongue along the length of Dean's shaft. It takes him a couple of repetitions to get the hang of it, but pretty soon he's deep-throating like a pro. 

Without really thinking about it, Dean reaches down and pets the back of Cas's head – offering encouragement – although Cas really doesn't seem to need it as he brings his hands into the act, fondling Dean's balls and dick as he uses his tongue to lavish attention on the head. 

The macho part of Dean's psyche calls for a time out. He doesn't swing this way, never has. Nothing against men who did, he just wasn't wired for it. But hell, every rule had its exception and it seems like he's just found his, because there is nothing wrong with what Cas is doing. 

Not. One. Damn. Thing. 

Cas runs his palm over the puddle of lotion. He spreads it in broad strokes over Dean's chest. When he gets to Dean's nipples he uses the pads of his fingertips to make tiny circles, sending them from perky to aching to be pinched so fast Dean clamps his palm over Cas's hand to keep it in place until he gets the message. 

"Oh fuck, yeah, just like that." He moans and trembles with unconcealed pleasure as Cas pinches with even more zeal. 

He can't keep his hips still. In fact, his entire body wants to get in on the act as he fucks Cas's mouth, pushing his dick over that amazingly agile tongue because it feels so damn good. 

Cas shifts, using his body weight to anchor Dean's hips firmly against the mattress. "I've got you," he rasps, his voice even more hoarse than usual, before he dives in for his final assault. 

Everything inside him that's wound tight unspools. Dean clenches his eyelids shut, his shoulders bowing back against the pillows, and blows his wad. After a minute or so, he opens his eyes and meets Cas's gaze. He sees how earnestly Cas wants to please him. To give him pleasure. It does something to him, and the breath catches in his throat.

Cas's lips are rosier than usual. His tie is flung over his shoulder and his hair is a rat's nest from Dean running his fingers through it. "Uh uh." He hooks his hands under Cas's armpits and tugs until they are face to face. He leans in, taking a breath because his heart is pounding in his chest and he's feeling kind of dizzy, and then Dean closes his eyes as he kisses Cas for the first time. 

Cas hesitates as their lips meet, and then he kisses back. Dean moans, not because his throat hurts – hell, he'd forgotten he felt lousy as soon as soon as he'd started beating off – but because Cas kisses even better than he sucks dick, and what they're doing feels incredibly right. 

He'd once promised to see that Cas lost his virginity. His half-assed attempts at matchmaking – even when they were assisted with handfuls of cash – hadn't amounted to much and Cas hadn't seemed all that enthusiastic anyway. But Dean liked to keep his promises, at least the ones he didn't make with his fingers crossed, yet he'd let that one go unfulfilled. 

The pieces fall, stacking together neatly – The funny way Cas regarded him when he thought he was unobserved. The way he'd tried to hook Cas up with girls he clearly wasn't suited for and Cas's deliberately striking out. The jealous apprehension that crawled around in his gut when Cas was MIA for too long – and he feels incredibly dense. All this time. All those weird moments when he'd thought Cas had read his copy of _Human Behavior for Dummies_ wrong, it was him who'd been clueless.

"God, Cas, I'm so sorry," Dean whispers against Cas's mouth before brushing their lips together. "I didn't – "

"I know." 

Cas makes his clothes disappear. Dean can't decide if he's disappointed about that or not. Undressing someone, especially for the first time can be fun. Since this is Cas's first time ever Dean wants it to to be extra special. On the other hand, he doesn't have a fucking clue how to have sex with another guy and there's a good chance if he dicks around too much he'll lose his nerve. He decides to let instinct take over, because lucky for them, even if his brain is grinding gears, his body knows exactly what to do. 

Cas craves his touch, leaning into every caress. Dean uses his own body as a reference point, stroking the tops of Cas's shoulders and underneath his arms, finding the similarities and the differences in what they find pleasing. He works lower, over the planes and valleys of Cas's chest and torso until hesitantly he wraps his palm over Cas's hard on. 

"Dean?" 

"Now I've got you." Dean smiles into Castiel's questioning gaze before kissing him again. He thinks of all the times he blew off Cas's passes and wonders how he could have been so stupid. 

He can't take his eyes of Cas's face. It's all kinds of amazing to see his buttoned down self come slowly undone as he gets lost in physical pleasure. It hits Dean like a blow to the chest how much he's missed this. Missed making love to someone he gave a damn about instead of just getting his rocks off. His throat closes up and his vision goes blurry as his eyes well up. Quickly, he swallows hard and buries his face against Cas's neck, nipping the tender spot underneath his ear and giving him permission cry out as he comes.

They take a long time coming down. Dean can't stop himself from touching Cas; his cheek, his shoulder, the dip at his waist, the jut of his hipbone, and covering his face with kisses. He knows there's a sappy smile on his face that won't go away because after a while he can feel his cheeks start to ache from it, but he doesn't care. 

"That was amazing," he whispers when he manages to find his voice again. "You're amazing. And sexy. And handsome." He frowns. "I don't think I've ever told you that." 

"That's the cold medicine lowering your inhibitions," Cas replies with quiet regret. "Normally, you make a point not to compliment my appearance. However, you never fail to tell me if I look like hell." 

"What? No! I …" Something itches at the back of his brain and he has the sinking feeling that he's missed something important. "Cas," he asks, even though he's not entirely sure he wants to hear the answer. "Is this a dream?"

"Would it matter if it was?" 

Suddenly, Cas feels less substantial in his arms. Dean considers and then shakes his head. "No. You were here. I was here. What happened, happened. But why, Cas? Why this way?"

Cas gives him one of those looks. The one that says, 'Just because I'm an angel it doesn't mean I have all the answers.' 

"You need to ask yourself that." He smiles gently and then leans in and brushes his lips against Dean's. "I have to go." 

There is the sound of wings beating against air and then Cas vanishes out of his arms. 

When he wakes the next morning, Dean rouses slowly with the lazy, satisfied feeling that all is right in his world. The flu-ish ache is gone from his bones. He stretches and hesitantly touches his throat. The swelling is gone. When he swallows, it doesn't itch anymore. In fact, he feels great – aside from feeling hungry enough to make a serious dent in the all you can eat buffet that's being offered by the restaurant next door – like he's ready to take on all comers. 

And then the events of last night come flooding back and some of his good mood evaporates. When it occurs to him how long Cas must have been carrying that torch and how oblivious he's been, deliberately misinterpreting the signals – both Cas's and his own – so he wouldn't have to challenge any beliefs he held about himself, he feels deeply stupid. 

And sorry. 

"Cas?" He looks up at the ceiling, picturing the sky beyond. "Next time?" His stomach flutters with an unaccustomed attack of nerves because at this point in his life relationships scare him more than monsters. "How would you feel about dinner and movie?" He drops his eyes, not really believing he's just asked Cas on a date, and wonders when, or if, he'll get a reply.

end


End file.
